


the visions around us

by helvetica_upstart



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Episode: s06e04 Maid of Honour, Fluff, M/M, because I can't get over the wedding dream book, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvetica_upstart/pseuds/helvetica_upstart
Summary: "So why did Alexis call me your JC Chasez?"
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 43
Kudos: 542





	the visions around us

David followed Patrick into the dressing room so that they could have a private moment— a literal private moment, just so David can tell him how handsome he is without Alexis and Stevie watching, not even a euphemism— but he’s not sad when Patrick immediately pulls him into a kiss.

It’s the new kiss. David had thought he’d kissed Patrick in every way possible, until Patrick proposed and they started doing this too: hugging tight and kissing as if it was the only language they had, and breaking it to try to find the words anyway. _Easiest decision of my life,_ Patrick had said and David kissed him like this; _it’s a yes,_ David had said, and Patrick kissed him like this again.

Patrick pulls back. He murmurs against that spot on David’s neck, “You like the suit.”

The lapels of the suit are silky, under David’s palms and above Patrick’s heart. David resists the urge to clutch at them. The next time he kisses Patrick in this suit will be at their wedding, after they said _I do._ “I like the suit.”

*

“It’s shower time,” Patrick grunts, straining in his attempt to drag David out of bed. 

David’s too busy being a fucked-out puddle of goo on Patrick’s mattress— oh, ew, too soon to think about puddles— to even consider humoring him. “Sleep.”

“I’ll wash your hair.”

God, David loves that. The thing is, Patrick loves it too: he asks to do it just as often as David asks him to. Which makes it a pretty terrible bargaining chip. “Mmm, yes. Tomorrow please.”

Patrick gives one final tug— they’ve perfected the way David can curl up in his lap or his arms, so sometimes David thinks Patrick forgets how much bigger David is than him— and then gives up. “Fine. Be sticky.”

It takes some effort, but David manages to roll into his side to watch Patrick finally shrug off his gray button-up. It’s sweat-drenched and missing a button; their compromise for the lack of dressing room sex earlier.

Patrick lobs it into the hamper— David will have to remember to sew that button back on, it’s a good shirt on Patrick— and grabs the speaker off his nightstand as he heads into the bathroom. 

At first, David had been incredibly curious about the playlists Patrick made, just like he was every time he got a glimpse into the way Patrick’s mind worked. _Tell me why that song makes you think of fucking me,_ he’d ask about the sex playlist, or he’d download a song and try to understand why it was on both Patrick’s sad and happy mixes.

By now, David’s heard them all enough that it’s basically white noise. It’s hard to fall asleep without Patrick nowadays, but David can doze to the sound of the shower and Patrick’s music. Usually.

What’s playing right now… is not white noise. 

It’s NSYNC.

David pulls a pillow over his face. When that doesn’t muffle it, he groans and gets out of bed.

The bathroom is steamed up to David’s preferred temperature, hotter than Patrick sets the water for himself. When David pulls back the shower curtain, Patrick’s grin grows. It’s annoying, and the most annoying part is how David can’t stop laughing. “Why are you like this?”

“Let me be your JC Chasez, David,” Patrick croons, dripping all over the floor as he reaches for him. David lets Patrick pull him into the spray.

Patrick lathers shampoo between his palms and then begins to wash David’s hair. David goes boneless, resting his head on Patrick’s wet shoulder as Patrick massages soothing circles into David’s hair. He can feel more than hear the rumble of Patrick’s voice, singing along to “This I Promise You _._ ”

They get out when the water starts running cold. By the time David’s done with his skincare, Patrick has already changed the sheets and gotten into bed. He holds open the covers for David. There’s a moment of awkward scrambling as they both angle for little spoon. David wins, which is only fair, because they both know it’s his turn.

“So,” Patrick mumbles sleepily, tangling their legs together. “What’s the JC Chasez story?”

Ugh. David totally should have extracted a few more promises from Alexis before making the offer to give him away. He keeps thinking about her in the Galapagos and missing her so much he forgets that she’s right here, still annoying the hell out of him. “How much did she tell you?”

“Just that I should ask.”

“He’s in my wedding dream book.”

“I don’t think NSYNC is in the budget for our wedding band,” Patrick says, punctuating the _our_ with a little squeeze.

David huffs. “No, not our mood board. My wedding _dream book._ He’s one of the grooms.”

“How many grooms are there? Do I need to take a number, or is there a line?”

David can hear the cute wrinkle between Patrick’s brows in Patrick’s voice. He has to flip over and soothe it with his thumb. “Don’t worry, honey, it started long before I met you.”

“Oh,” Patrick says, and melts. “When?”

“Mm, before I even knew how to properly balance a mixed media collage. Terrible aesthetic choices in some places, really. You wouldn’t want to see it.”

“I want to see it.” The words are rushed. Patrick must want it very badly, to ask without even teasing.

“I’ll show you in the morning.” He rolls back over and pulls Patrick’s arm around him. Patrick feels tense, though. “Ready for sleep?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Patrick says, stroking David’s side. David can feel him trying to relax with even breaths. 

But after ten minutes, David’s still awake and the quality of the spooning is at an unacceptable level. 

“Ohmygod, fine,” David says, rearranging them so he’s curled around Patrick.

“No, it’s just—” Patrick says, even as he’s snuggling back into David. “I just— I _really_ want to see it.”

“Oh.” That’s not what David expected. He sits up and clicks the lamp on, even though he kinda can’t believe he’s giving in. In the lamplight he can see the sheepish smile Patrick’s trying to hide against the pillow. He’s just too pretty, is the problem. “Where did ‘Mr. Bedtime’ go, though? Why am I stuck with ‘Mr. Shower’ and ‘Mr. Wedding Planner,’ huh?”

“Mr. Bedtime turns into Mr. Wedding Planner when he gets excited,” Patrick says gravely.

“Hmm, I don’t think Mr. Wedding Planner is the one I’ve met the other times Mr. Bedtime has gotten excited,” David teases as he rolls out of bed.

The book is in his overnight bag, because he didn’t want to leave it at the motel with Alexis again. Patrick’s sitting on top of the covers with his legs folded by the time David brings it to him.

The book is a map of hopeful and desperate visions. There are parts in detailed relief, because David could imagine picking a chuppah and making color palettes and being the center of attention for a few hours. He’d always known that he’d wear a bowtie and want chocolate cake. The important part, the part about a forever-person, was sketched from secondhand knowledge and romcoms. It may as well be labeled _here be dragons._ David hadn’t known, then, what being in love like that would feel like. 

He does now.

He dozes against Patrick’s shoulder as Patrick pages through the book. He’s not sure how much time passes before Patrick clicks off the lamp, kisses his temple, and whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you,” David is just barely awake enough to whisper back.

*

“You know, we didn’t even get into your childhood dream wedding,” David realizes the next morning as they open the store. 

They’ve talked a lot about what Patrick had dreaded, when he was planning a wedding with Rachel. And the things that still make him anxious now, like whether to invite Uncle Jeff and where guests will stay once the motel is full. But Patrick still hadn’t said anything he really _wanted._

“One that stayed on budget,” Patrick intones as he prepares the register. “I’ve always known the value in being fiscally responsible.”

David could leave it there, but he doesn’t. “Annnnd?”

Patrick is biting down a smile. David prepares himself for all the incorrect choices he would accept, if they made Patrick happy. “I wouldn’t mind picking the DJ.”

“Well, of course you can,” David manages. “You can pick whatever DJ— or string quartet— you want.”

His gaze is fixed on the row of lotion he’s straightening, so he doesn't realize Patrick’s moved until there are arms wrapped around his waist. Patrick whispers teasingly, “Unless Larry Air is going to let Stevie fly one in, I think a string quartet is out of the question.”

“Then you’ll pick the— the best DJ possible, so. Great. As long as it’s not Diplo.”

Patrick nuzzles his face into David’s shoulder. Then he says, seriously, “Thank you. I know there are a lot of things that won’t be like you wanted, in your wedding dream book.”

No, almost none of this wedding is in the dream book. But neither is Patrick. And neither is having a marriage, all the days after a wedding that end up mattering more. Those are things David hadn’t even known he could dream of. 

“Yeah. It’s better, because I get to marry you.”

“Not JC Chasez?”

“Not JC Chasez,” David confirms. And then, “Okay, but you and Not Diplo have to show some restraint with the NSYNC.”

“This I cannot promise you.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you to storieswelove for the beta!
> 
> come hang out with me on tumblr at helvetica-upstart.tumblr.com!


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